Tears Upon Bloodstained Snow
by Deadfield
Summary: Post Books  After Ramona's untimely death, Scott falls apart. Enter Wallace, Scott's best friend,who in the boys hour of need takes him in. Wallace's heart becons for him, and as for Scott... READ TO FIND OUT. M-rated content later. Read Review
1. Chapter 1

Tears Upon Bloodstained Snow-1

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He never saw this coming. No, no one did. But it happened nonetheless. He regrets that it wasn't him, or some unselected stranger. He opens his mouth, to grieve for her, only nothing comes out. In his head plays the scene of her murder, over and over in his head, the way it was executed, and the appearance of The assailant changing each time. And a lone thought, stating what he would have done, provided if he had been here with her. He can no longer hold back. Tears are imminent.

Ramona Flowers lay dead, on the sidewalk, brain matter, two shell casings, and a carton of milk accompany her. Scott Pilgrim, stands behind police tape, hot tears cascading down his rosy cheeks, as new snow begins to fall. He was not present when Ramona was murdered, and the ill news shook him to his core.

They moved her into a body bag, after marking evidence, as a blonde woman approached him.  
>"I need your name, age and I need to know if you have you any relation to the deceased" her accent had heavy undertones of a Russian heritage.<p>

He stood there, letting the word 'Deceased' marinate in the soup of his mind, reminding him that Ramona was gone forever.

"Name. you any relation to the deceased." her tone was steely and cold now.

" I'm S-Scott Pilgrim, I'm twenty-t-three and s-shes my g-girlfriend." this came out more like a croak, or a pained hiccup, than anything else. His eyes drifted to the body bag again, then to the white chalk mark, where her body just laid, then to the shell casing, the spilled and dented milk jug, the bloody mess, and back to the chalk body line.

"Where were you at the time of the murder."

"Home, watching tv." another croak escaped from his throat, as he whipped his face with the back of his wooly cardigan.

She wrote down a few things. Then looked to him, furrowed her brow, then resumed writing things down.

Others were here now. Some he knew, others, random passerby's. Kim came first, she came to see what happened, when she saw Scott. She took one look at him, and she knew what was wrong. Her eyes filled with sorrow, as she glanced at the body bag. Then to Scott. The girl pulled her phone from her jeans, and speedily texted. Then, she hugged the brunette boy, whispering a solemn "I'm so sorry." in his ears.

The blonde ladycop handed him a slip of paper, "You are classified as a suspect. "Please report to this location tomorrow at two o'clock sharp."

Kim glared at the cop. She just glared back.

Another car came to a screeching halt, sending snow-slush into the side of a squad car. A very Strung-Out Wallace Wells exited, and jogged over to he and Kim. Knives exited the rear doors of Wallace's car, and joined them. Wallace looked at the crime scene, then to Scott, who gave him a look. A look that held so much pain and agony. That look pulled on The coal haired mans heart. The one he loved was in pain. So much pain. He embraced the boy, even as his lips threatened to whisper; "I love you." in his ear, and kiss all the honey-eyed boys pain away.

Yes it is true, Wallace Wells loves Scott Pilgrim. He always has. He wishes he could give the boy the universe with interest. He wishes he could confess to him.

Stephen Stills and Joshua were here now, lowering their heads in respect, along with other newcomers like Holly, and a few others.

They finished their confiscation of evidence, and cleaning, some time later, and people gradually began to leave. Kim left, stating that she had to pick up the baby from the sitter (she and knives had adopted a Korean baby, a few months back.) Leaving Scott and Wallace together in the snowy night.

After a few silent minutes, Wallace spoke. "Do you want me to give you a ride back to your place guy?"

There were no words, just a nod, and billows of tears.  
>He followed him to his car, and sat silent, gazing at the faint stars overhead.<p>

Wallace, on the other hand, didn't know what to do. He wanted to say something, something to console him. To make him happy again. Bring the light back to the boys life. But he was a lost for words. And Scott seemed like a husk, a blank husk.

They pulled onto the curb, and after Scott managed to open the door. The apartment was a bit small, but useful, with a purple and white color scheme.

Scott walked to the center of the living room, and with his blank tear-ridden eyes, he scanned the room.

He could see it all.

The time they moved in.

Their first Christmas together

And yet he was blank. Nothing but flushed cheeks and tears.

Wallace contemplated taking him to the hospital, due to the fact that the honey haired boy seemed to be in a shock, but thought against it.

He turned towards the coal haired male, and Wallace felt his heart shudder. He looked so sad, his eyes glistening with wet tears, and face wrinkled with the features of pain.

He collapsed in his arms , Scott barely holding on by the sides of his sweater. He sobbed frantically Into the black seams, Wallace patting the pack of his friends head softly.

Wallace hated the person who had murdered Ramona. Sure, Ramona stole Scotts heart, and there was a thick tension whenever the two met, but whoever took Ramona's life, killed Scott on the inside.

Scott looked up at Wallace, and Wallace at Scott. Right now, he wished he was in Ramona's arms. Than at least Scott would be happy.

Scott sat there, sobbing in his arms, glad that Wallace is there for him.

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Bacon.

Scott smelled bacon.

He rolled over in the bed, that smell of soft cologne, wine, and bacon.

He raised up, and rubbed his eyes, now knowing that he wasn't in his and Ramona's apartment. He cringed at the mentioning of her name. Last night played in his head like a bad movie. Tears welled up again, and he was overcome with the feeling to cry his eyes out of his sockets. He wiped his eyes and took in his surroundings. He was in Wallace's apartment, (their old apartment.) and he could see Wallace, in the kitchen cooking.

After reliving himself, he found the dark haired male at the table, eating breakfast. His face lightened as soon as he saw Scott. "Did you sleep well guy?"

"Yeah," he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Thanks for letting me stay." he sat at the table,bas the dark-eyed male set a plate of bacon, eggs, and hashbrowns in front of him.

Wallace took a sip of his glass full of white zinfandel. "Uh," he looked down at his food, not wanting to see Scott's eyes darken. "Holly told me that the funeral is Wednesday." (it was Sunday.)

Clang!

Scott's fork hit the glass tabletop, and Wallace snapped his face to Scott's. He looked into the boys honey eyes, and saw a brief hollowness, and he had the same blank look he'd seen yesterday, minus the tears. A wave of panic grew in Wallace's heart. "Scott?" "Are you alright?"

There was no response.

He needed to snap him out of it.

"Scott, you want a cookie?" 

He didn't respond immediately, but after a few seconds he looked at Wallace and nodded slowly. The dark haired male smiled, and handed the boy his cookie. Scott wrapped it in a paper towel, and slid it in his pocket.

"I called your boss, and you don't have to come to work till' thursday." he said, gazing at his phone. He looked to the brunette, who still hadn't touched his food. He grimaced, and took his plate, tossing the food.

'Dammit!' Wallace thought, 'You love him, think of something to make him feel better.'

"So, what do you want to do today, I don't have to go to work until three." Wallace asked, plopping down on the couch, still in his button-up, boxers and socks.

"I guess we can just play video games," he replied, looking towards the console in front of the television.

Wallace smiled, happy to get some response from him and helped him find a suitable game.

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"One Mimosa please." Wallace looked at the woman, shoulder length blonde hair, that was most likely bleached. A skimpy strapless dress, that matched with her black purse. He couldn't see her shoes, but he bet that they were slutty.

He casually poured the alcohol, sending a glance the womans way every now and again, before handing her the drink. She paid him and stumbled off, and Wallace who was extremely bored, Scanned the almost completely empty bar. There were a few people in on the seats, mostly the alcoholic looking type. The manager sat at the piano, playing "Pure Imagination," from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. Wallace poured himself a glass of armaretto. Letting his mind drift, to a certain brunette, with eyes like honey. He could see Scott now, at home, curled up in the big chair, his hair still sexily curled from sleeping the previous night. A pink blush powdered his cheeks, as he bit his lip in a nervous way. The things Wallace wanted to do to him. First he'd kiss, touch, and nip at him, until he was as pink as the evening sky. then he'd make him cry his name to the holy heavens. And when that was done, he'd-

"Kick him out onto the street like the filthy mongrel like he is."

Wallace's brow narrowed, and his eyes seemed to grow dark. "Mobile." he seethed through clenched teeth. He met eyes with the man. And he had to hold back from slapping the shit out of him, when the man laid one of his hands on his cloth covered shoulder.

"Why do you care for that mutt, darling?" he drawled on 'darling, and Wallace had to put two fingers over his eye to stop the twitch. (yes Wallace has a twitch)

"There are some parts of my mind I won't let you into." he glared daggers, making Mobile smirk.

"Your shift is over, I have someone that needs to see you."

Wallace grimaced as the little bell, telling him that his shift had ended. He shook off Mobile's arm and grabbed his coat, and taking a nip from his bottle of armeretto.

He was not happy.

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As Wallace walked throughout the doors of his apartment, He felt his heart snap in two, there was Scott, clad in a oversized sweatshirt, that just met the end of the white boxers he was wearing. He also donned black mid calf socks. His hair was still a hot mess from sleeping. A small circle of tissues with tear stains circled the base of the recliner. Wallace walked closer, realizing that the brunette boy was sound asleep. He smiled, setting his belongings down, and removing his shoes and pants. He didn't bother with the light, for the streetlight outside the double window provided more than enough illumination to the small living-room kitchen combination.

Wallace poured himself a glass of Pinot Blanc, as he stared at his love, curled up in the chair, a streak of light revealing his head and upper chest.

(Sorry to interupt, but go to YouTube RIGHT NOW and listen to the song, Thank You by Dido, while you read the next part. Trust me, it gonna be emotional.)

"Thank You." Scott's hoarse voice seemed to shatter the silence, momentarily spooking the dark haired male. His honey eyes were visible now, the light reflecting off of them in the most alluring ways. His brow was furrowed, with a look of heated remorse.

"For what?" Wallace finally choked out, setting the glass down, and walking in the direction of the chair. he could see the tear trails on his friends face now, and the glistening amber colored eyes.

Scoots eyes fell from his gaze. "Im a burden." "My girlfriends dead, something that I coulda prevented, I can't even set foot in my own apartment," he saw those amber pools well up with tears. "and I'm mooching off my best friend like some, Some, SOME-"

The tears fell now, and Wallace gelt his heart be yanked from it's very place. He crouched down next to his sobbing friend. Scott quickly pulled the mans body forward, giving his white dress shirt a fresh coat of tears. The forest-eyes male ran a consoling hand through the boys bellrose hair.

"Wallace?" Scott said in-between sobs.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

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Cliffhanger much?

Read and Review! Much love!


	2. Chapter 2

Tears upon Bloodstained Show-2

I've gotten some decent feedback from this, so I'll continue!

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"I love you."

Wallace felt his heart his his stomach, and his stomach hit the floor. He felt each and every ounce of reason he held hit the wall and shatter.

"You're like a brother to me, you took me in whilst my hour of need." "You've always been there for me." he saw those tear-filled amber eyes look up at him once again. In all reality, he wanted to have a breakdown, cling to Scott's shirt, and let each and every concealed truth flow out like the river of life itself.

Yet, he knew he couldn't.

He needed to be there for Scott. He couldn't have two men in tears. He calmly held the boy, allowing him to softly sob into his dress shirt.

"It's all my fault." he heard him mutter. The crying boy grew stiff, and Wallace winced. The taller male heard Scotts head up to eye level, examining his empty eyes refill, like a shots worth of vodka fill a glass.

Only, they were being filled with something much darker.

His eyes were consumed altogether, and his iris' were now a cold black.

"Negascott." Wallace said, seething the name between his teeth. He'd only witnessed the coming of Negascott once, when Scott had believed that he wasn't adequate enough for Ramona's ridiculously high standards. Needless to say, it was not something for the faint of heart.

A sickeningly cocky grin plastered itself on his face, the corners of his mouth curling in the most dastardly (yes dastardly) of ways. But this time, it was different. His hair, the beautiful bellrose locks that shined like the radiant wheels of Apollo's golden chariot as the day came to an end, began to turn black. It was as if his hair was being corroded with a plague of darkness. It came to a stop at his edges, and the boy, whose skin now a deft gray, looked up to him green meeting dark hazel.

"Hola Wallace, deteniéndose en una causa perdida que yo veo." he said.

"Está lejos de ser una causa perdida". "¿Qué quieres de todos modos, hombre?" his response seethed through his jaws.

"Usted ve chico amigo, yo soy la oscuridad del corazón de Scotts." "Yo soy la encarnación misma de su dolor, sufrimiento, angustia, tristeza, miedo, -"

"Cállate de una puta vez." Wallace growled.

He smiled, yet continued. "La ira, los celos, el orgullo, y lo más importante, la lujuria".

Wallace's eyes widened. "L-lujuria?"

He chuckled, a grim feeling coating the room. "Vas a ver en el tiempo Wallace hacer", "En qué momento".  
>And as quick as it came, that darkness in Scott's eyes and hair recessed back to the depths of Scotts subconscious, leaving Wallace, with a limp Scott, who was seemingly in a comatose-like sleep. He set the male down, cleaning the dried trails of tears with the corner of his shirt and some saliva.<p>

He desperately needed a drink.

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[The Following Wednesday]

Cold.

Rain.

Depression.

Tears.

Regret.

Pain.

Sorrow.

These were the most positive words that could possibly describe the funeral of Ramona Flowers. A small gathering of figures crowded the casket and the freshly dug grave. Some spoke, touching the closed mahogany casket as tears filled their eyes, and their parting words were overrun with sobs and pained cries. Some said things. Scott remained silent, under the cover of Wallace's ebony umbrella. A priest began to speak, his assistant handing out black and white roses.* He didn't want to look at the casket; his silent tears were already too much. He fiddled with his roses, as Ramona's mother shot him a nasty glare.

"Ashes to ashes, dust to dust." the priest said monotonously.

Then, the flood broke loose. He collapsed, kneeling in the puddle of murky water in front if him, his face in his hands and wailing in sadness. Wallace crouched next to him bringing him into a hug, ignoring the blustering pain of the puddle of freezing rain.

Yet the priest continued.

Scott gradually got up, facing the crowd. All were of understanding, none judgmental.

Wallace watched Scott, seemingly peering inside of him. He could see the dark sludge otherwise known as Negascott metaphorically swimming behind the boy's eyes. It was taunting him.

As the coffin was lowered, Scott laid The Power of Love onto the top, witnessing it be buried.

They didn't leave until the grave was filled.

"Do you want to go now?" Scoot said, amiss the silence. Wallace nodded, and took the other boys hand, just missing a pink blush float onto Scott's cheeks.

They settled themselves into the car, preparing for the relatively long car ride on the way home. The coal-haired man tuned on the radio, in a failed attempt to break the tension.

It went on like this.

He finally tore his eyes from the road, to see he had fallen asleep. He was curled up against the window, his jacket strewn across his lap, and his shoes on the floor. (A/N- you take off your shoes on the car, right?)  
>Wallace smiled, which in turn almost killed them, because he almost drove into the small ditch beside the road. He hated driving through the twists and turns of Harley forest. It brought back unpleasant memories of his childhood, for he had grown up here.<p>

He took a sip from his thermos, thanking the gods that his coffee and brandy was still warm.* he frowned, mid-sip at the fuel light blinking on. Wallace sighed, and pulled onto a dirt road, remembering an alternative pathway back to civilization from his younger years.

They reached the small gas station soon after, Wallace walking inside and paying the cashier, a woman named Marceline, who was in turn his cousin, but they had neglected each other for so many years, they didn't remember the other.

He pumped the gas, ignoring the large droplets of rain dripping from the covering of the establishment and onto his jacket. The green eyed man climbed back into the car and nearly Shat himself.

Negascott was back, his skin gray. His hair ebony and his eyes a dark hazel. He grinned at the angry Wallace, who looked like he wanted to slit his throat.

"Give Scott back." his tone was laced with the venom of hate. He chuckled and me his hazel eyes with the others emerald.

"Wallace, so you can sense me?" he asked, picking an unknown subspace from his nails in a disrespectful manner.

"I know when something is wrong with my best friend's chi," he seethed, gripping the steering wheel. "What do you want this time?"

"I just want to tell you that everything is not as it seems." he said.

"Didn't you deliver that steaming load of bullshit the other night?" Wallace retorted, watching the dark automaton laugh at his comment.

"Now listen," he said. "Don't you find it awfully funny that the coffin was closed, during the funeral, as if half her brain was blown off, when you and I both know, she was shot in the heart?" Wallace's eyes widened, as did Negascott's pompous grin.

"And that none of her evil exes were present?"

"Scott killed all of Ramona's exes."

"He didn't kill anyone." "They were just turned into subspace matter for a few, before reconstituting themselves offer Gideon's defeat." he exclaimed.

"Um, so there still alive?"

"Precisely." "But the League of evil exes prohibits any of them from coming after Scotty here."

"Okay, but how does Scott tie into this?" he inquired.

He Cackled.

"Oh, you know why, you just have to remember what you forgot!" he said in the cockiest of ways, before he reverted back into a black haze an was sucked back into Scott.

Wallace pulled over, and slammed his head against the steering wheel. And to make matters worse, Mobile had texted him, telling him to get over to his house when he was finished with Scott.

God dammit.

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When Wallace returned home, he found Scott asleep, and thankfully not in a cationic state. He bypassed the kitchen, and into the closet, were his and Scotts clothes hanged. He crouched, and scavenged the area for a suitcase, which to his avail, he found. He wiped the thick sheet of dust away, and opened the briefcase. Inside lay books, and other literature paraphernalia. He pulled out the biggest book, and let it lay in his lap.

"I never thought I'd have to use you."

TBC

Yeapp. I threw Negascott in there. He plays a big part later in the game. And this wil be so much more than som hurt-comfort story.

Read and Review!

Oh, go use Google Translate on Wallace's and Negascotts Convo. Its in Spanish.


	3. Chapter 3

Tears Upon Bloodstained Snow-3

Scott shuffled along the snowy streets, shoving his work keys deep in the pocket of his faded jeans. Everything seemed bleak, and gray. The people were just blank and lifeless, a dim light that passes him by. Perhaps the only thing that was remotely important anymore, was Wallace. He loved how Wallace loved him to death, in a brotherly way mind you. But even that wasn't enough.

It was all

Just

A

Blur.

By the time he unlocked the door, he had been overrun with a infallible need. he rushed to the kitchen and drew a knife from the mahogany drawer. He pulled back the sleeves of his blue sweatshirt and examined his arms. Each limb was littered with slashes and cuts. Even little pricks laid in the mix. This had been his only way to release the pressure that had shawshanking it's way into his being on a daily basis. Scott pressed the blade into his right wrist, sliding it back and forth until red life poured from beneath his skin.

He chuckled, making another gash, as small tear droplets reached his open wounds, causing that stinging sensation.

The blood covered his arms in a sheet, as he continued, as if it was second nature. He could feel that dreaded pleasure seething out of him, like carbon escaping from a semi-opened bottle of soda.

*SLAM*

"SCOTT!"

Wallaces squeal echoed throughout the small space. He had come from the bathroom, towel around his waist, and his hair still damp. He snatched the steel blade from the dazed teen, and tossed it in the kitchen, and took hold of his roommates blood blanketed arms.

"Shit Scott, what are you doing?" he shrieked, looking at the slices and gashes. Upon closer examination, and to his horror, the wounds formed words on the amber eyed boys arms.

The left read 'Love.'

The right read 'Ramona.'

He gagged slightly, as Scott began to laugh.

The laugh was cold and empty, with a slight twist of insanity. He looked to Wallace, and through those amber eyes, showed him all of the pain, anguish and relent he witheld. It was like a flood finally just coming through.

"Wallace, I want to be with her." he gasped in between sobs. "I want to die."

Wallace was in shock. His emerald eyes wider than the grand canyon, and the look of upmost concern as well as fear on his features. Is Scott died...

..he wouldn't want to live.

He set his hands on the boys shoulders.

Scotts mind went off like it had been doing the last few days, NOTGAYNOTGAYNOTGAY.

"Scott, don't die on me." "I don't know what I'd do without you." Wallace whispered into his ear, then hugging him tightly, Scott hugging back not exactly knowing how he felt about all this. A light cherry blush powdered his cheeks, as his eyes darted around the room, frantically searching for a distraction, his eyes settling on his hardening wounds.

Wallace on the other hand, had to hold his hands to his lap before he jumped the boy. He looked absolutely adorable with his red blush and his cluelessness. Hd wanted to kiss him out of his skin, and make him the happiest boy in the world. Just live all his pain away. He glanced at the cuts, and grimaced, feeling the acidic feeling of guilt rise in his throat.

Something needed to be done.

He rose, and motioned Scott to do the same.

"We need to get you some peroxide."

Wallace was worried. Very worried. It had been a week since the incident with Scott and the knife, and today was the first day that Scott, who was still gloomy and depressed, had somehow managed to convince him that he was stable enough to be at home by himself. The amber eyed boy had been staying at Knives and Kim's abode when he left from work. He had a day off today and bedded Wallace to let him stay home and play Zelda, instead of Wallace's preemptive choice of sticking him with the girls. He gradually caved, and allowed the boy to stay, who smiled for the first time in forever. And when he was in the shower, Wallace packed up everything sharp in the small apartment and broke the fuck out.

And even that wasn't enough to unnerve him.

He swerve along the snow-sodden roads, the vehicles headlights switching on at the approaching dusk. Wallace's fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, his knuckles white and numb. He needed to get home. To make sure His beloved Scott was all in one piece. He'd been biting his nails in a. New level of concern all day, praying that when he walked through the ebony door, Scott would be sprawled out on the couch, asleep while re-runs of Will & Grace illuminated the dark room.

(song time. Go to YouTube and listen to Utada Hikaru's Final distance. It not in English but it fits so well. Do it. Now.)

He swerved onto his street paying no attention to the driver that he almost rear-ended flicked him the bird. The green eyed man tore the key from the spot and hopped from the car.

Something was wrong.

The chi was not right.

The key took its spot on the hole and the door was swung open.

"SCOTT, NO DON'T!"

But it was too late, the chair tipped and fell,and scot hung there, tears still falling from his eyes. Wallace tugged at the bindings, to hid horror to find that he he'd hung himself with the rusty old bike chain that usually laid out back. and to make matters worse, he'd looped the chain around one of the ceiling beams, and locked it with a combination lock.

Wallace tugged the chain, burning tears sliding from his cheeks. The chain wouldn't budge. He could see Scotts handcuffed hands twitch, and he screamed, realizing he didn't have much time left. Wallace frantically jerked at the combination lock, Hoping that someway, somehow it would come undone, but he had no avail.

Scott began to violently rock, the life slipping from his very core.

"Core." Wallace thought.

He shot out his hand which now glowed a light blue. He pointed with his index and middle fingers.

"SLASH!"

The chain was cut in half, a handcuffed and sputtering Scott colliding with the hardwood floor. Wallace grabbed the breathless Scott, only to be shoved away.

"WHY?" the amber eyed teens shriek echoed across the space. "WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DIE!" his hands wiggled in the cuffs, eagerly wanting to strangle the shit out of Wallace. "CANT YOU FUCKING SEE THAT I WANT TO BE WITH RAMONA?" "SO TELL ME WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DIE AND BE WITH HER, TELL ME WHY!" his voice was raspy and hoarse and his eyes laden with a tint of redness.

Wallace raised his hand, with tears in his eyes and with all his fucking might, a slapped Scott.

For a secant there was silence.

"CAN'T YOU SEE HOW SELFISH YOU'RE BEING?" "WHEN RAMONA DIED EVERY ONE OF OUR FRIENDS WERE DEVASTATED." "DO YOU REALLY WANNA DO THAT TO ALL OF YOUR FRIENDS, LIKE KNIVES AND KIM AND STEPHEN?" "AND WHAT ABOUT YOUR FAMILY?" " YOUR MOTHER IS ALREADY UNSTABLE, FOR ALL WE KNOW SHE MIGHT DRIVE OFF A BRIDGE, DO YOU STILL WANT TO KILL YOURSELF KNOWING THAT YOUR MOM IS LIKELY TO DRIVE OFF A FUCKING BRIDGE?"

Scott opened his mouth to say something, to cuss the fuck out of Wallace for telling him off, but was interrupted by the adjacent's booming roar.

"DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THAT RAMONA WOULD WANT THE ONLY MAN THAT EVER DID HER RIGHT, THE ONLY MAN THAT EVER REALLY LOVED HER, TO COMMIT SUICIDE?" "HELL NO!" "IF SHE LOVED YOU LIKE SHE SAID SHE DID, SHE WOULD WANT YOU TO LIVE!" "LIVE GODDAMMIT!" "SO I BEG YOU, BEG YOU, THAT ON HER BEHAF, YOU LIVE!" his hands met with his knees, tear ridden eyes meeting tear ridden eyes.

Scott looked at him with the upmost hate, but then he hung his head, his bellrose locks meeting with the floor, as well as his tears.

Wallace sighed, and focused his chi to his fingers, a hazy light blue blade forming at the tip, and then severing the small metal links that bound his loves wrists.

Scotts hands grasped Wallace's form immediately, sobbing a discombobulated stanza of 'Your rights,' and 'I'm sorrys' into his white shirt. Wallace hugged him back, grasping his hand and rubbing small circles into his back.

This went on for what seemed like hours.

Scott raised his head, and looked into his saviors eyes, getting that odd feeling in his chest again. It was synonymous to a violet orchid springing into bloom.

"Wallace?" Scott said in a questioning tone, wiping his puffy eyes. "H-how did you cut the chain, and m-my handcuffs?" a slight tone of fear wafted in his voice. He looked to his scar ridden arm, Wallace touched it, and the scars began to heal. He squealed, but till looked at him with that childlike curiosity.

Wallace sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"It's time you found out who I really am, and what I really am."

TBC.

BOOM FUCKIN SHAKALAKA. CLIFF THE FUCK HANGER. and if your wondering were all Wallace's chi jazz comes from, hess done it in the books a couple times. Once to be all dapper and dry his body, and a few other times I cannot recall at the moment. This and the next chapter(s) were gonna be one big super chapter, bur i wanted to whore you guise of reviews so, yeah. When you review, i want you guys to post what you think Wallace is! Read and review! 


	4. Chapter 4

Tears upon bloodstained snow-3

Wallace looked Scott in the eye, as if he was peering into his soul, grasping his very being and bringing it to him in a magnificent embrace.

The male pulled the caliginous book to the space between the two.

"I am what the call a Continuum Nomad." He put bluntly.

"You expect me to know what that is." Scott said with a raised eyebrow, and a small grin. Wallace made a face and opened the book.

"My race, were near immortal people, who are seemingly chained to the earth." "Our powers over life energy, or chi, is the very fabric that keeps the loose bonds of the earth sewn together." "We are bequeathed with the task of making sure the world isn't purged into oblivion, or infinite darkness." he pushed some of his ebony hair from his eyes, then withdrew a photograph from the center of the aged book. It was a photograph of a family, the young ladies and women wore bonnets and long dresses, with gold buckled shoes. The males of the group wore a more suit like apparel, but retained the buckled shoes. Scott's finger moved to a figure, a figure so familiar that it shook him to the core.

"Wallace," he cleared his throat. "When was this picture taken?"

"1849."

"And," he stuttered. "This is you in the picture, isn't it?" Wallace's eyes trailed to the paper, and he sighed.

"Scott, I'm 207 years old."

Scott made a face of pure amazement, as if he'd just witnessed the very conceiving of the universe. He was in a daze, a stupor filled with potent mystery.

A smile crawled across Wallace's face. He absolutely adored the quirks that made the amber eyed man who he was. It was the cutesy thing ever. EVER.

Scott face became flushed as his counterpart rubbed consoling circles into his back. That feeling in his chest, like somebody was tugging on his heartstrings. Like so many colors, it was like Walt Disney threw up. He had no idea what he was feeling.

"See!" Wallace pointed at the picture excitedly. "There's me," he pointed at himself with a stoic face, he was clad in a white shirt and dark slacks. His long finger moved to a lanky woman in a short dress with a smug grin. "That's cousin Marceline." "Me and her were born on the same day." "She was considered a heathen, on account of she always wore short dresses." "They tried to execute her twice, but she was found innocent."

"When was this?" Scott inquired, trying to sidetrack the feelings from plaguing him so.

"I don't exactly remember, I do remember puritans though." he said lightly. "She really dressed like a whore."

"I-is she still alive?" the bellrose haired man asked.

"I think so, I haven't seen her in a while."

They continued to gaze at the photo.

Scott crawled closer to Wallace. "So, what exactly is it that Continuum nomads, Uh, do?" "Are they like supposed to save the world on our reckoning day, or something?"

"What Anime is that from?"

"I dunno, some shit I was watching last night."

He chuckled. "When we die, our bodies dissipate,and we are given to the earth." "Were the worlds failsafe method." "If in the case that if the world is forsaken into oblivion, our bodies are the saving grace." "Our tattoos begin to glow, and we filter ourselves into the center of the earth, and bring the world back to life." "Then we are reborn, and the cycle starts over." he rotated his wrist for affect.

"You have a tattoo?" Scott said excitedly."

Wallace lifted his shirt, revealing a Incan style circle, (You know the ones that look like extra badass transmutation circles From fullmetal alchemist?) on his right pectoral. "This is just a binding seal, when I use my powers, it fades away, and wings appear on my back. "

"oh." he went back to that innocent vibe that Wallace loved so much. "Wallace, how many people have you ,Uh, loved in your life?"

Wallace blushed. "I haven't loved anyone in my life." he lied. "When we love someone, the earth pumps it's chi into said person, and they are turned into one of us."

Before Scott could retort, Wallace's phone began to vibrate. He made a face and put it on silent, then proceeded to throw it into the red threads of the couch.

"W-who was it?" Scott intercommunicated with the teen, who had reduced into a small curled ball.

"Its Mobile."

"Why is that a bad thing?" "isn't he your boyfriend?" "Aren't you two, like made for each other?"

He sighed, and his emerald eyes slowly moved on the same wavelength of vision as Scott's. "In order to make sure that Continuum Nomads don't abuse their powers, they are assigned a familiar." "Familiars have complete control over us, we cannot deny any offhand requests, if we do, we are thrown into the pit of infinity."

"But, Mobiles a nice guy, he didn't even freak when I thought he was Gideon."

"Scott, he-he-oh God!" Wallace was in shambles now tears crawling down his cheeks. "He whores me out, makes me his bitch. "Uses me to make him money." he wipes his face. "the bastard doesn't even work anymore, the bastard."

Scott embraced his friend, sobbing into his shirt. He needed to do something for him. Wallace had sacrificed almost all of his time, collecting all the pieces that shattered on that day, and aligning them back in their respectful places. There had to be a loophole, there just had to be.

"Wallace, what does it take to become windburned familiar?" Wallace's eyes widened, looking into Scott's like he ha done earlier.

"It has to be somebody with a mutual feeling of trust and friendship with the Nomad." "They have to be kind hearted, and have good intentions, guy."

Scott made a determined face. "Just tell me what to do."

Scott began to blush, as Wallace unbuttoned his garment, revealing his tattoo. "Put your hand on my tattoo, and let your mind go blank."

His face was flushed once more, and he hesitated, but let his hand settle on the marking, allowing his mind to be reduced to nothing.

The dark haired males eyes glowed a pale emerald, with his hand elevated, he touched the center of Scott's forehead, and began to vocalize, softly. The bellrose haired boy gasped as beautiful images of the earth flooded his mind, like the bountiful waters of a waterfall. It was encircled with trees, which butterflies, and other creatures sleuthed around in the foliage.

Then, he saw it.

A green light consumed everything, and Scott opened his eyes. A small mark appeared on his chest, like a miniature version of Wallace's tattoo, just below his collarbone.

"Thank you Scott," tears of joy lay in his eyes. He was free. Finally free. "Thank you so much."

He pulled him into an embrace, his fingers moving in those soothing circles again. They stayed like this for what felt like a thousand eternities.

Wallace gazed at his love, their eyes meeting each others, their hands grasping each other, and their lips meeting.

The kiss was short and sweet, it being broken as the door swung open, and the angry behemoth otherwise known as Mobile made his grand appearance. He ripped Scott from Wallace, and tossed him across the room, then he grabbed Wallace by his ebony mane and pulled him to his feet.

"Get in the car." his voice was a low growl that radiated evil.

"Jesus Christ, leave Wallace alone!" Scott managed to pull himself to his feet, pushing his limp arm back into it's socket.

Mob expelled a harsh laugh.

"I assume you have already been informed of Wallace's 'abilities,' but I'm his familiar, and I have complete control of the reigns on this ragamuffin." he said, with that shit-eating grin.

"S-Scotts my familiar." Wallace bellowed, trying to wriggle from the taller males grip. He grabbed hold of the dark haired throat to keep him from speaking.

"I knew it." his grip tightened. "You transferred my power, my extended life span." Wallace was turning purple now. "And you gave it to that vagabond." His hands gripped even tighter around his neck.

"I SAID LEAVE WALLACE ALONE!"

The marking below Scotts collarbone was illuminated a pale green, and a wind-like surge of power rattled and shook the building. A mark identical to the one on both the Scott and Wallace's bodies instated itself under Mobile's feet.

He released the crumpled form of Wallace, and telepathically flung the television set at Scott, who expelled a roar and deflected it into the kitchen.

Small hands jutted from the circle, each grasping a part of Mobile's figure, and dragging him down. He instinctively panicked, and grasped the closest thing to him, which was unfortunately, the small rug in the center of the room. He began clawing, and clawing for dear life, as he watched Scott focus guarded and harder to banish him to the mysterious darkness beneath. His hand slowly sunk into the ground, a diluted scream left ringing in his ears.

The symbol dissipated, and the bellrose haired male fell to his knees in a coughing fit, Wallace doing the circles in his back once again.

"What did I just do?" Scott enquired once the wave of coughs passed over.

"As a familiar, you have the ability to protect me in my time of need." "In your case, you sent Mobile to the NetherRealm, where the Elders of time will deal with him."

"Oh, cool."

Wallace chuckled at his friends nonchalance, and smiled at his smile.

Then, Scott moved in close,

And kissed him again.

For a moment, the world was nothing but a big round sphere of bliss. But then a dreadful thought crossed his mind, and he lightly pushed Scott away.

"Scott, as much as i love I can't do this to you right now."

TBC.

Oh cliffhangers. GET THE REVIEWING. 


	5. Chapter 5

Tears upon bloodstained snow-5

Scott trailed a hand through his hair, bewildered and lost. His eyes trailed into Wallace's, who had a slightly hurt look to them. Something in the males stomach writhed in pain, and a sheet of remorse blanketed him, realizing what he'd just done.

Wallace knew what Scott was going to tell him. It was something conflicting and confusing and twisted each and every way around. He sighed, and set his hand on the amber eyed boys green clad shoulder.

"Scott, we can't do this; because of how fucked up all your emotions are right now." "You want somebody to comfort you, a body to cling to." "And down that road, you might say that you love me, and come to realize that you don't." he paused, his eyes skittering away from the the other males. "You want a replacement for Ramona, Scott." "And as much as it hurts, I love you too damn much to let you trick yourself into loving me."

Scott broke down in a symphony of sobs, Wallace sighing yet again and pulling him close in consolation.

"I just don't know." he sobbed. "I still love Ramona, I know I always will, but after she died, you got involved, and somehow, my heart just wants you." "I don't even know." his cheeks were damp with tears, and his eyes laden with a red tint.

"Scott," Wallace knelt to eye level. "I don't want you to make the same mistake that I made." "If you want to try a relationship with me, be my guest, but only after you can get back on your feet." "I don't want to force you to do something you'll later regret." he spoke, in his ever-calming parlance.

And in the back of his mind, something echoed; If you love something, let it go, and if it comes back to you...

No time for overly saccharine remarks.

He needed a distraction.

He sat, legs crossed in the native american manner and tousled Scott's hair. "I've always been jealous of your hair."

That blush came back, the flushed look that always surfaced when his masculinity was threatened. Wallace assumed while Scott was stricken with grief and pain, the energy that conjured said look was redirected into something of more importance.

"I hate my hair." "It's all bright and flashy and orange."

"Flashy is kinda cute."

The blush made another entrance, but was quickly subdued with the ringing of the dark haired male's alarm clock, telling him that he was to be leaving for work. Scott made a slightly hurt look, as Wallace scurried around the abode, getting dressed, and having a glass of one, okay, two and a half glasses of White Zinfandel. But smiled, as Wallace embraced him before hurrying out the apartment door.

The boy lazed around for a few hours, not having to work on the weekends, he occupied his time by playing Zelda and eating.

-Sometimes I can't believe you.- the cold breath of NegaScott echoed from his Scott's lips. Scott rolled his eyes. "What do you want this time?" "And don't speak German or Spanish like you did last time."

-I wanna know what's going on between you and the Wallace guy.- he said through Scott.

"Shouldn't you know?" "You are a part of my self conscious, right?"

-You say that like I keep track of each and every one of your ignorant and belittling thoughts.-Negascott replied, Scott could sense a overly-dramatic, and unneeded hair flip from the faapparition.

"I just don't know." that was all he said. His hand met his wrinkled brow, and a sigh escaped his lips. -I want Ramona back, but something in me, something that's been pushed down and compressed over time is just springing up, and subsequently hitting the fan." his hand was now placed on his heart, as his eyes narrowed in confusion and sadness. "I want everything to go back the way they were, before this entire death thing," he sort of choked on the word 'death' "But at the same time, I want things to get better, you know, between me and Wallace."

-And on that note, the fecal matter has hit the whirling device.-

"My mentally augmented fist is going to collide with the cheek of a certain pompous asshole apparition, if you don't shut up."

NegaScott rotated his dark eyes in their caliginous rotating holes, and put a hand to his obscure hip. He starred off into the recesses of his host's mind, when a tingle of despair came over him in a spidey-sense-like manner. And with a fretful voice, he spoke:

-Scott, hide in the closet.-

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

Wallace traversed the small set of stairs to the small stage of the bar, a black cello in his right hand, a bow in the other. He took center stage, beside Lilith, who sat at the dark piano. The lights dimmed on the stage, as Lilith's fingers began to dance across the keys.

(MUSIC TIME! Go to YouTube and type in silent hill not tomorrow piano version. It fits. There's a cello version but it was removed. /sadface)

Wallace began, the bow sliding across the silver strings. The pace picked up, the faces of the croud growing with mixed looks. Some surprised, others sad and solemn, a expected reaction to the song. Lilith was banging on the instrument now, the beautiful sound echoing every which way. Wallace had the same stature, the bow grinding with each and every heated encounter with the strings.

The song was coming to and end, each slowing down in pace in volume, they were one scale away from the and...

-Rumble-

"What the hell-"

-Rumble-

"Shit!" Lilith cried, "Earthquake!"

Immediately people began to run from the building, much to the owners dismay, but fleeing people are out of the question for consultation. Wallace regained his composure, and walked from the building. What he saw, changed everything.

A large coal black renaissance-esque tower had erected itself in the park square. It's craftsmanship leaning tower of Pisa, but with darker carved tones and frightening gargoyles. It radiated it's own aura, a dark black haze encircling it like a flame.

Another crash sounded, in the direction of His and Scott's apartment. He found himself overcome with worry.

"Celty!" he blared at the owner. "I'm going to rescue Scott!" he started to run, cursing as his car fell down a crevasse. Celty grabbed his arm,restraining him.  
>She pointed to her bikes, a Duccatti and a Kawasaki, both still intact in the parking garage aside the bar. She handed him the keys to the black Kawasaki Ninja and nodded her helmeted head, telling him to go.<p>

Wallace wasted no time reaching the graage, the upturned roads and other debris making for adequate stepping stones to the third floor. A lone helmet sat in the compartment of the cycle, Wallace pulling it on in record speed.

He flinched as he sat on the bike, surprised at the feeling. The bike was magic, like he and Celty alike. Pure energy coursed through its wire-like veins, it's engine like a heart.

But no time for a through examination of the magic motorcycle.

The dark vehicle, roared through the crumbling streets, increasing speed by the second. Wallace's knuckles where white, ash he urged the bike to go even faster. He came across a corner a bit wide, just making the turn. He gunned it, the final stretch, at 130mph. But the earth yet again rumbled, upturning a rather large piece of road. He was just able to ride under the large hunk, it barely taking off his head.

He drove into the small yard, tossing the helmet form his head and dashing up the stairs.

He wished he was faster.

The front of the structure exploded, sending ash and dust in all directions. Hunks of wood and brick rained into the street, making harsh marks on the pavement. Wallace sighed behind his chi barrier, thanking the gods for his quick reflexes.

A shrill cry came from inside the shroud of dust, Wallace coughing and brushing his dust filled eyes.

"WALLACE!" Scott came into view, being restrained by a dark automaton, which turned towards Wallace, then was quaked away in a cloud of smoke.

TBC.

Forced Chapter is Forced.


	6. Chapter 6

Tears Upon Bloodstained Snow-6

Wallace regressed to his knees, warm tears springing forth from his emerald eyes. His palm gripped the ruined carpet in an effort to calm himself, but alas. It was futile, and he began to sob and weep with a pained vigor.

He failed.

He failed to keep Scott safe. The one thing he swore to do. And now his familiar, his best friend, his potential lover, was in harms grip.

More tears followed, and he began to cough. He couldn't move. The burning desire to rescue Scott was still kindled in his soul, but for the life of him and many others,

He couldn't,

Fucking,

Move.

He was literally paralyzed with grief.

"Wallace?" A ephemeral echo rang throughout the room, as a haze of darkness gathered. He managed to look up, and upon doing so, he viewed the dark side of his loves Self conscious.

"NEGASCOTT!" Wallace bellowed, instinctively coming to his feet. He took a few swing at the hazy entity, only for his fists to phase through him. "What d-did you do with S-scott?" the tears returned, and his voice was yet again shaky.

"Wallace, I haven't much time, or power for that matter." "She has him." "At the Citadel of Armageddon." "You gotta hurry. Ple-" before he could finish, a obscure tentacle wrapped around the Nega's form, and swiftly reeled him into utter nothingness. A small cloud of haze succeeded a muffled wail

Wallace's fist boomed against the ruined floor. He began to scream, his chi flaring like an angry fire. The remaining paint on the remaining walls began to peel, the floor began to crack, and the grass outside started to wilt.

He was going to annihilate everything.

He was going to guillotine the life from each and every living being, steal their souls like scot had been stolen from him.

Scott.  
>A thought of Scott flashed in his mind. The level of energy began to calm, Wallace returning the life force to its respective owners. he stood, and looked to the tower that had erected itself in the town central park. The Citadel of Darkness.<p>

"Scott, I will get you back." he said sternly.

A blue light flashed from his chest, as a heating sensation crawled throughout his body. A long rod of light, which looked like a cross swaddled in cloth began to protrude from his chest. It finished erecting itself into the space, and it presented itself to him. It began to shed the cloth-like light, and a long, Rapier, with a sapphire jewels, and a silver handle presented itself too him. It had a chain from the bottom of said handle, and on the end of that chain, a charm hung. It was a heart, with a cursive SP on the inside. Scott's symbol.

-WALLACE GAINED THE POWER OF DETERMINATION.-

He gripped the weapon, tensing as he felt new, powerful chi meld with his.

Yet again, a wave of determination rushed over him, and his eyes found the Citadel Of Armageddon. Rage boiled in his heart, and his eyes narrowed.

He ran to the closet, and rummage around heatedly. Books and clothes flew asunder, as Wallace searched through the items. Then, he found it. A exposed piece of hardwood floor. No carpet covered it, for a swath had been bladed through it long ago. The dark haired male pulled the rapier from his side, and plunged in between the dark oak boards. It sprung up, sending wood chips askew the floor, and he slashed, poked, and slammed until a sizable void formed in the floor.

There it sat.

The Tome of Solace. The holy book.

Wallace grabbed the book, and dashed out the door.

The ruined streets were a blur, as the green eyed male weaved through the layout of upturned pavement and potholes. On the horizon, he could view a sizable crowd circled around the Citadel.

"Fuck." Wallace lisped inside the helmet, as his eyes settled upon the police blockade that held the group of people back. He desperately searched for a way through the swarm, but had no avail. Then, through a haze of dust, he saw a dump trunk, with it's back full of wood.

It was the perfect ramp.

His hand revved the cycle, and he shot forward onto the elevated wood, And Wallace bucked back and forth as the path shifted form pavement to wood.

Everything moved in slow motion, as the Continuum Nomad rocketed through the air. Spectators whisked their phones from their purses and pockets, and took numerous photos of the man on the magic bike. Wallace soared over the moat, cringing as the police began taking shots in his direction. Leaning backwards, so the cycle's back wheel was the closet to the small island of land the structure sat on, Wallace braced himself for the collision of bike meeting land. He bounced uncontrollably, but managed to regain his composure, the bike now sitting ever so sturdily next the the Citadel.

He flinched as a bullet whizzed by his ear, putting a nice clean hole in his collar. He glared in the direction of the cop, who was the officer that had harassed the hell out of Scott on the night Ramona had been murdered.

His eyes went wide, and flashed a hazy blue. A wave of chi was sent backward, knocking the spectators and the officers in the frontmost on their asses.

Another Few shots were discharged, which were blocked by Wallace's aura.

His fingers settled upon the stone door, and immediately, A flash of white light went off, and the door creaked open.

His dress shoes echoed as he strides forward, making the setting feel cold and deadly. Then, a creak resounded, and the doors were pushed shut by an invisible entity.

"Oh how cliche." Wallace said coyly, making a rather unamused face at the stone doors. He continued onward, nimble fingers clasped around the sheath of the Power Of Determination. The footing began to feel looser, as if the floor was made with stepping stones. At last, the dimly lit hallway came to an abrupt stop, and the green eyed male was presented with a marble door. Etched into the surface of the portal, was the roman numeral for one. His hands met the stone, and a red light flashed, granting him entrance.

Wallace walked through the small hallway, and was presented with a room that mirrored a ruined fashion mall. Clothes and various items littered the floor. He glanced to his side, and focused his eyes on a baby doll, part of it's head was missing, and it's hands obscured by some type of black moss.

He tossed the doll aside, and kept moving, both hands now on the sheathed sword.

In the distance stood a lone figure. "Hello?" Wallace called. The figure turned, and Wallace was faced with a shocking sight.

Matthew Patel stood in front of him, the devilish grin emulating from his face complementing the dark aura that encircled him.

"Matthew," Wallace said, shaking off the initial surprise of his being here. "Do you know where Scott is?"

Matthew opened his eyes, which were now pools of utter blackness. His grin seemed to grow.

"He is but one test you'll have to pass if you want to get out of this hell alive." the Indian man hissed. His hands moved to his sides, and a coal and vermillion blaze came to life in his palm.

"I should have expected this." he mused under his breath, his hands moved to the sheath, and within seconds, the cover was removed. The chi levels rose from both ends, one of darkness, and the other of determination. Both of his hands moved to the handle of the blade. A wave of energy was expelled when Wallace spoke the blades incantation.

"Fly Away."

TBC.

sorry I haven't updated, my computer broke, and school started, so I've been pretty tied up. ;-;


End file.
